"Öhhh...Kay. Will do that, Sir. What unit were they from 'gain? Couldn't tell them that we have found some crashed flyboys, can I?"
Sam plays around with the vox a bit, while waiting for an answer, then sends a quick call to HQ.
"HQ this is facility relief mission #1 under Sergeant Cormaeg MacCammon. We encountered survivors of flight x97-54. Two wounded, two on their feet after local fauna attack. Request commands how to continue. Back to base, wait for recovery of wounded or continue the mission? Jankins out."
Hah, if we can establish a connection, it will become someone else's problem.
Let the bloody brass sort it out.
They always talk about need-to-know basis, above your pay-grade and such.
Well, you get paid to think, so think....
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Cpl. Halversen looks grim, "Our pilot and El-Tee are dead, they were in the cockpit when we crashed." she explains. "We were on a search-and-destroy op, supposed to be a supply caravan...but apparently these xenos pack a s!@$load of guns on their haulers too. We took a bad hit and limped off. Would have made it too, except that the long-range 'spex picked up pursuit aircraft so Vrel pushed the bird too hard, and, well you saw the rest."
The vox crackles and sputters for a long minute, then two, then three, then comes to life. +++We read you sir, this is Depot Gamma-29 Signals Control, orders are to proceed to mission target. Send asset coordinates to us we'll get a recovery team out there when we can. Please turn vox over to commanding officer for House Gibrahim's Armsmen, their liaison officer would like a word. Control out.+++
"Well, this is useless. Try not to make your wounds worse and I'll take another look when we get to where we're going, and not rattling around in this tin can."
"Sir, Command wants us to continue with the mission. And they want us to dump them here and send their coordinates to HQ for them to send a pickup. And their boss wants to talk to them via the vox..."
Sam holds the vox receiver to the obvious leader of the flyboys.
His expression is somewhat ... concerned and disbelieving. He clearly did not awaited such an order.
"Roger that Jankins, return up top.
Morvano, you'll keep an eye on our guests for now.
Black, keep a look out for a defensible position where we can drop Corporal Halversen and radio their location.
Locke, man a gun-port, switch sides every five minutes for now.
Halversen, sit tight for now."
After those terse orders, Cormaeg moves over to the radio and takes Jankins spot.
"This is Sergeant MacCammon standing by, over."
Tom salutes.
"Sir yes sir!"
He complies with the command.
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Cpl. Halversen looks puzzled for a moment, then accepts the vox-receiver and starts speaking...something...into it. The voice that crackles back is equally unintelligible.
While you note quite a few Low Gothic words and phrase scattered throughout, the way they're strung together don't make any sense. Most likely this is the Flyboys' "battle cant", a combination dialect/code that many regiments use to keep their communications private.
As the weird conversation concludes, Arrea signs off--that much at least is clear--and proffers the receiver to Sgt. MacCammon. "Sir, anything else for Signals Command or should I end the connection?"
Cpl. Halversen gives MacCammon a salute. "Looks like you're stuck with us, sir, the depot's brass has decided that it'll be easier to keep all the personnel grouped in one spot, so you just got impromptu reinforcements. They'll send a tractor for the bird when they've got the time. You have the command, sir."
The soldier with the twisted leg gives Adahlia what is clearly intended to be a winning smile, but instead comes out as a pained grimace. "Appreciate the thought at least, ma'am. Private Tullimah Saar at your service, but friends call me "Tully". Appreciate the ride!"
What the heck is this bubble?
Oh well, whatever. A few bodies more for the Orks to feed on can't be a bad thing after all...
He shouts from the top-mounted gun at those in the interior: "Welcome aboard the ride number ZERO_EIGHT_FIFTEEN to THE DEPTHS S$+*TY-HELL. It greets you Gunner Jankins, your pilot is Pvt. Black.
Our current flight height is 2 meter and our ETA is ... UNKNOWN.
We hope you enjoy the rest of our ride."
After some rumble-time Sam shots down into the Chimera: "Hey flyboys, what are you doing on this s%~!hole of a planet after all? Beeing nice flyboys an' helping us mudfeet or some fancy, mysterious, hidden objective? An what's that bubbling of yours? Fancy-secret-tongue-number-66?"
"Well then, good to have you Corporal Halversen.
I don't suppose you or any of your troopers are trained in the use of autocannons?"
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Tully shouts back at Sam, "They don't tell us the "why" part, just order us about. We're in the same boat as you." He raps his knuckles against the armored wall of the Chimera for emphasis.
At the sergeant's question Arrea shakes her head. "We know autoguns well enough, but haven't been trained on heavy variants. Kirrin can operate heavy bolters if you've got 'em though, and Tully has his lanyard for bomb disposal, although he hasn't taken the review course since we got here eight standard months ago."
Kirrin gives a thumbs-up when his name is mentioned but otherwise doesn't speak. The last soldier who'd been mauled by the Terrorcat (and gave his name as Erel Ordon) winces and hisses at every bump and jostle of the APC.
Sam replies good-heartedly
"Hahaha, what do flyboys know of boats in the first place, huh? Harharhar!"
Down inside the troop compartment, Zora shakes her head and rolls her eyes in disbelieve over such a bad 'joke'.
Adahlia rolls her eyes at the banter. "Private Morvano, Adahlia, from my botched attempt to patch your wounds you probably can't tell, but I'm what passes for a medic in this squad." Adahlia sounds irritated, but mostly at herself.
Tom keeps quiet, eyes scanning the horizon.
Cormaeg turns away in irritation.
Typical, too much to ask to get some extra heavy support.
Ah, but if we had got someone trained in auto cannons, they would all have been dismantled of course.
The emperor provides, but he has a nasty sense of humour.
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The sun is hanging low in the sky before Black brings the Chimera to a halt. "We've found a road sir, and I'm getting a big auspex reading up ahead. Reasonable sure that's our target."
He points to the device's screen. "I pulled us up three-fourths of a kilometer short, but they probably heard our engine. Orders?"
From up above, Sam strains his neck to get a look at their Target. Any obvious signs of recent battle - like smoke coming from the direction maybe?
"If they are aware of us anyway, they will probably investigate...
Let's see if we can't draw some of them out, thin their numbers before going for the real prize."
"The Chimera is a big target, so we'll have to hide it and set up an ambush.
If they DON'T come, then we'll employ a bit of stealth and guile."
"You loved those instruction-vids with a helmet-on-sticks to draw fire, eh Sarge?
You think that actually works... Oh well we're fighting Orks aren't we ... so I think it may work after all - hahaha!"
Thomas stands and checks his equipment.
"Orders sir?"
"First we need a place where the Chimera can be hidden, either completely, or just enough to aid in an ambush.
Then we set up a killing field and wait.
If we don't get a nibble on our bait after a while, we employ stealth to get closer, scout the location and prepare for infiltration.
In that case, we'll likely leave the Chimera behind and retrieve it AFTER we take the station."
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Cpl. Halversen doesn't look like a woman who's lying, and you can't think of a reason she'd need to. But after her salute to Sgt. MacCammon, when he turns away you notice Kirrin staring intently at her leg. Following his gaze you see her hand at her side...but her finger is tapping out a pattern on her leg. Three taps, pause, two taps, pause, two taps. They both then very casually go about their busy-work like nothing happened for the duration of the ride.
Arrea nods. "Sir, permission to speak freely"?
"Hmmph, very well Corporal, consider permission granted."
Adahlia tries to commit the sequence to memory, she'll mention it to MacCammon when they get a moment alone.
"We shouldn't leave the vehicle alone sir, last thing we need is for us to get all settled in and find the enemy has made off with our ride."
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"Orks aren't known for their curiosity, sir, and their vehicles are even louder than ours. If they have a presence in the area they're not likely to git a s%@@ about this hunk of metal unless they see it. We've only got a few hours of daylight left and I haven't seen any night-fighting equipment, so speed seems to be our friend. Your Storm Trooper seems pretty light on his feet, let me take him on a quick scouting run to gauge the facility's status & potential enemy strength. Bad intel makes corpses, as my captain would say."
"Thats a good one. I certainly don't make a good corpse, you know?
And Adhalia, Zora and Area are way too beautiful to get chopped by an Ork. So I'm totally for Locke to go scouting. Hahahar!"
Cormaeg narrowed his eyes a little, he was suspicious.
His own troopers might get away with questioning his orders out in the field, but this was an outsider.
However, it did make sense, and he supposed that they would know the enemy they had been fighting for a long time better than the new arrivals.
In the end he gave the new plan the nod.
Thomas salutes.
"Sir, yes sir!"
He prepares for the scouting run.
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Locke's alleged promise at stealth doesn't deliver, and Arrea winces at every snapped twig and stumble. Still, the pair makes it to the edge of a large clearing--the trees and underbrush and all be cut away, leaving a large open field for the compound.
The facility boasts 4m tall ferrocrete walls, obviously prefabricated sections assembled here on-site. In front of the walls are a line of many dozens of "dragon's teeth" tank traps.
Just off to your right the gravel road emerges from the thick foliage and ends at a damaged gate, its steel doors hanging lopsidedly. Indeed much of the facility looks like its been through a firefight--as the pair of you loops around the clearing (sticking to the treeline is Arrea's advice) you notice that five of the eight guard towers are blasted ruins--though the last three do appear to still boast their twin-linked autocannons.
Sam will remain at the Stubber, overwatching the street with a readied suppressive fire. He will only shoot if he is certain that enemies are coming at them, otherwise first inform the others.
To remain watchful he will alternate his view between the surrounding and the auspex he will request and quick-tape to the grip of the heavy weapon.
"Black ... Can you do that explosive-thingy again? A remote triggerable explosive at the street near to us would be helpful I guess."
"Until we hear back from the scouts, I want everyone else to man a gunport and stand by for further orders."
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The fort's exterior looks like it has seen a few firefights--five of its eight guard towers have been blasted apart by (presumably) rocket fire, and in several places the walls are scorched or riddled with solid-shot impact marks. The heavy plasteel gates are smashed in and hanging loosely on their hinges, but you don't notice any other breaches in the wall.
The walls look like prefabricated ferrocrete barricades linked together, each about 5m tall, with dozens or hundreds of "dragon's teeth" tank traps scattered in front and a liberal application of razorwire both atop the wall and amongst the traps.
The surviving three guard towers still boast their twin-linked autocannons, and as you loop wide around the compound you notice movement--small green figures scampering about the towers.
You get about halfway around the facility when Arrea decides to turn back. "The sun will be gone soon, we don't want to be caught out in the open when full dark arrives/" she murmurs to you.
Thomas nods and follows back to the others. He tells them all that he saw.
"Movement! Wait guys ... I think ... Yeah that's our scouts."
Easing the guns barrel to the air to prevent a unintentional friendly fire, Sam listens to the report.
...
Upon hearing the description of the base condition he whistles through his teeth.
"Man, that does not sound easy... Do the remaining watch towers have field of fire on the gate? And how far from the treeline to the gate?"
"Orks may not have put any lights up, and I don't recall them having better night vision than us? We may be able to make our way to the gate early pre-dawn. Work our way from there. Hopefully they just raided and left sentries, rather than fortifying properly."
"Well, I am in charge, but I am willing to hear out any reasonable suggestions as how we proceed.
So, consider the floor open for any REASONABLE suggestions."
"Mhh, a distraction? Some of us drive the chimera into plain sight, fire off a couple of shots, then fall back drawing attention and greenies from the base. The others walk in through the backdoor ... or something like that?
Works in the commissariat-vids at least ... so it will probably get us all killed, now tat I think of it."
"Perhaps, but if there is enough xeno's, they might be able to overwhelm the chimera with minimal losses and then we've lost manpower AND our only armour.
Still, it is an idea, so I'll at least give you partial credit Jankins.
I guess I have to encourage you when you DO chose to employ your grey matter."
Thomas stands straight.
"With our God Emperor behind us, a good tactic would be to feint an attack, let them come to meet it, and fall back to lure them into a kill zone. I would be honored if ordered to be on the front of the initial attack."
"Feint and ambush seems our best bet, we don't have the manpower to split our forces effectively. Better do it daylight, darkness favours close quarters where they have a definite advantage."
"If we want to make a killzone as effective as possible, the Chimera needs to play a part, which means we need to find a place where it is possible to camouflage it enough to not ruin the ambush.
so that will need to be the first order of business."
"So... keep the Chimera and it's guns as our ace, we'll need at least... three? to make an attack. Might have to make an impression so it looks serious, maybe throw some grenades at the gate - make a show of it. Then we fall back when they start to return fire. That about sum up the plan?"
"We'll need you to co-ordinate and keep the flyboys in line sergeant, and Jankins is the only qualified to fire the Chimera's gun, I propose Locke, myself an Isaaya act as bait. Assuming Locke can keep his instincts in check and actually fall back."